


Seeing Things

by onecent



Series: No Evil [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - No Superheroes, An inaccurate portrayal of the legal system, Deaf Clint Barton, Explicit Language, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-04 14:21:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5337281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onecent/pseuds/onecent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years after Clint Barton returns from war, he needs help to save an old friend from her ex-husband. But Matt Murdock doesn't want to help this obnoxious asshole. All he wants is justice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Liturgy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _And I know, I know that I did you wrong. Will you trust me when I say that I’ll make it up to you somehow?_  
>  “[I’m So Sorry](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5pJbS2iw0vQ),” Imagine Dragons

On a cold and misty night, in a musty alley just off 8th Avenue, behind a dumpster of rotting meat and old diapers, a woman cried out for help, not truly expecting anyone to hear her. At the end of a gun, she held out her arms and looked away, waiting for the man in front of her to grab the purse out of her trembling hands.

“That’s a real nice necklace,” the man said in a low growl. “Throw it in with the rest.”

She reached with fumbling fingers to take off her necklace. Out of the darkness, something swung up to hit the mugger, causing him to grunt and fall to his knees on the ground. The woman stared at her rescuer, who looked past her shoulder and said, “Well? Go!”

At their feet, the mugger groaned. The vigilante kicked him and nodded back over his shoulder with a violent jerk. The woman took off running, clutching her necklace in one hand. Behind her, she could hear the two men fighting, or perhaps the sound of one man just beating another with wild punches that sometimes hit flesh and sometimes hit the sludge of garbage piled next to an overflowing dumpster.

——————————

Matt Murdock walked slowly up 9th Avenue, his cane flitting lightly above the ground in front of him. He felt the first drops of rain fall on the back of his neck and hunched his shoulders against the biting wind. The cold cut through the bandages on his right hand, making the wounds underneath ache. He briefly wondered if he should have brought gloves. But then, he was almost to his destination, anyway.

He passed an alleyway—the echoes were deeper now, and the smell of rotting garbage drifted past his nose—and paused when he thought he heard the sound of people scuffling over something. He strained to catch the sound more clearly, searching…

“Look out!” a man shouted. Matt felt himself suddenly dragged from his position at the mouth of the alley. He heard a horn honk and felt a breeze from the car whooshing past.

“You okay?” the man asked. Matt turned to where he thought the voice was coming from. “You were just standing in the middle of the street.” The voice was young and light despite the concern, and it seemed to be coming from Matt’s ear level or even above. Matt was a little surprised—most people didn’t match up to his own six foot frame.

“I was…never mind,” Matt said. “I’m fine. Thank you.” He turned to leave.

“Hold up!”

Matt sighed. The guy was another do-gooder, he supposed. Why were so many people interested in helping the blind guy cross the street? Did it really do that much good for their guilt, helping a disabled person do something they were perfectly capable of managing on their own?

“What’s your name?” the man asked.

Matt nearly snarled. “Why?”

“Just trying to be friendly. And I thought I recognized you from somewhere.”

“Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I’ve gotta get to work.”

“Right, sorry. See you around.”

Matt bit back a sharp remark about not seeing anyone, ever. Instead he just continued heading toward his office. He paused outside the large building for Landman and Zack, took a deep breath, and plunged back in. He felt anxious today and in no mood to wait for the elevator, so he headed for the stairwell instead. It was old and smelled faintly of pee covered by fresh paint, but at least it gave him an outlet for his extra energy. He practically ran up the stairs to the fifth floor where he shared a closet of an office with his best friend, Foggy Nelson. When Matt pushed open the creaky old door, he heard someone shift inside the room.

“Hey, Matt,” Foggy said. “How was the walk to work?”

Matt grinned and stepped into the office. It was a space he knew well, so he placed his cane by the door and walked over to his desk, which never moved, on memory. His foot hit the leg of his chair, which he pulled out to sit in. He eased back in the seat. “It was refreshing,” he said. “The rain seems like it’s finally going to start, which should be nice.”

“Only you like rain in New York,” Foggy said with a small laugh. He tapped something on the desk, likely a pen.

“It’s calming,” Matt said with a shrug. “And it keeps the smell from getting too bad.” As he scooted his chair forward, he felt something crinkling in his jacket pocket. He reached in and pulled out a piece of paper. “Hey, Foggy, what is this?” He held it out.

Foggy took the paper and unfolded it, presumably reading it for a moment. “It’s a brochure,” he said.

“What for?” Matt wondered vaguely where that had come from. He needed to wash his suits more often.

“It’s an anger management flyer. I didn’t know you were looking into something like that.”

“I don’t remember picking that up,” Matt said, his brows furrowing. “Why would I even need something like that?”

“Yeah, that’s a little...weird.” Foggy returned to his work, fingers clacking on the keyboard. Matt frowned and clenched his sore fist under the table before starting on work himself.

——————————

Lunch was in the office again. Foggy went out for food while Matt continued working. When he got back, he pulled out two sandwiches and handed one to Matt. He held out his hand for the food but set it aside immediately to continue working.

“You need to eat,” Foggy said.

Matt grunted. “I will. I just need to finish reading this case file.”

“You’ve been going over it for two hours now. Maybe you could use a break.”

“I’m fine.”

Foggy sat for a moment. Matt tensed, waiting to see which way his friend would fall. If only he’d just let it go…

“It’ll still be there after--”

“Foggy.” Matt slammed his hand down on the desk. “I don’t need you to be looking out for me all the time. Trust me to handle this.”

It was silent for a moment before Foggy asked, voice soft, “What did you do to your hand?”

Matt tucked his bandaged right hand under the desk. “I hit it.”

“On what? A brick wall?”

Matt set the book he’d been reading on the table. He pointedly ignored Foggy’s question and flipped open the case file.

“Look, I’m just getting worried about you,” Foggy said. “You’re just...I don’t know what it is, if it’s this case or something else, some girl you’ve been with, but maybe…” He took a deep breath. “Maybe you _should_ consider the anger management?”

“Foggy, I really don’t--”

“Look, it might be better than talking to me.” Now that the subject was breached, the words seemed to come pouring out. “I mean, I’m happy to listen, but if it didn’t feel right, if maybe you were upset with me or something, the meetings might be a good option. Or you could go to a therapist or talk to one of your other friends--”

“Jesus Christ, Foggy. You want to take a breath?” Matt groaned and put his head in his hands. “If I go to a meeting, will you leave me alone?”

There was a second’s pause before Foggy said, “Sorry. I nodded.”

Matt sighed. “All right. When you get the information, give it to me and I promise I’ll go.”

“And you’ll eat the sandwich?”

Matt’s mouth quirked up in a small grin. “Yes, I’ll eat.” He reached for the food and unwrapped it. “Pastrami?” he asked at the smell.

“From Joe’s. You looked like you needed it.”

“Thanks.” Matt leaned away from his books to enjoy the sandwich.

——————————

At the end of work, Foggy gave Matt a time and an address to visit. The group met that evening, not too far from Matt’s apartment, which was a crumbling building on the south side of Hell’s Kitchen. Matt chose to stop and pick up dinner--a hot dog with everything on it--on his way there after work. It gave him a chance to squeeze in some more research about his case instead of trying to rush home and cook.

Despite staying an extra half hour at work and waiting in line for his hot dog, Matt arrived early to the meeting. It was in an office building, and the man at the front desk walked him back to the meeting room.

“The seats are in kind of a circle around the room,” the receptionist said. “Do you want me to--?”

“Thanks, but I can find my own seat.” Matt flashed a quick smile and waited to hear the man leave. Then he turned and searched for a place to sit. He grabbed the first chair he ran into and slumped into it while he waited for everyone else to arrive.

People trickled in, first in ones and twos, then in smaller groups as the time for the meeting grew closer. Someone settled gently into the chair on Matt’s right.

“Hello,” the person said. “I’m Robert. Are you new here?”

Matt nodded. “First time.”

“Well, that’s cool.”

Any potential further discussion was cut off by the loud sound of someone grabbing the seat on Matt’s left and thumping into it.

“Hey Robert,” the new arrival said loudly. “And hey! Good to see _you’re_ not dead!”

Matt winced away from the loud noise and the clap on his shoulder. “Yes, I’m...what?”

“It’s funny seeing you here, actually. How’d your day go after almost getting run over?”

The car, earlier that day…

“I’m Clint, by the way.”

“How did you know I was going to be here?” Matt asked.

“What?”

“All right everyone!” A woman’s voice called out from the middle of the room. “I see some new faces, so let’s go around and introduce ourselves. I’m Linda, and I’ll be leading the group today. Charles, can you start us?”

Charles was apparently on the other side of the room, and spoke with a slight accent. Matt didn’t catch most of what he said, though, since Clint had leaned over and was whispering loudly in his ear.

“So, if you were up for it, I was thinking after this I could go grab some food down at this diner place around the corner. I haven’t eaten dinner yet. If you wanted to come, you’re welcome.”

“I ate,” Matt said under his breath with a small smile.

“What?” Clint whispered. “Didn’t catch that.”

“I said, I ate,” Matt said, a little louder, turning to Clint and hissing through his teeth. “And hush, I’m trying to pay attention.”

“Sorry, still didn’t get that. Can you--?”

“I already ate!” Matt shouted.

The conversation around the room ground to a halt. Matt stood from his chair, nodded to the room, and said, “So I think I’ll be leaving now.”

He heard a chair clatter behind him and Clint shouting, “wait up!” But Matt was walking as quickly as he could toward the door, fumbling a little for the handle and marching down the hall until he could feel the open air of the main foyer. He took a left toward the main doors and walked outside.

“Hold up!” Clint said behind him. Matt sighed through his nose and kept walking. “Hey, what, are you deaf, too?”

“What, in addition to being blind?” Matt snapped.

“Uh, no?” Clint paused. “No, in addition to me. I’m deaf. I’ve got hearing aids, but I can’t always catch everything.”

Matt felt heat rising up his neck. “You didn’t tell me that,” he said.

“Not like you gave me much of a chance. You didn’t even tell me your name yet.”

“It’s Matt,” he grumbled.

“Nice to meet you, Matt.” Clint stepped up next to him. “So which direction are you heading?”

“South.”

“Awesome, me too! Mind if I walk with you?”

“Didn’t you need to go get food?”

“Eh, it can wait. It was going to wait until after the meeting, anyway. Now I can go grab something from someplace over by my house.” Clint’s stomach grumbled loudly.

Matt sighed. “Where’s the diner?”

“You wanna join me?”

“I feel like you’re not going to leave me alone anytime soon, and you also sound like you’re going to eat me if we don’t stop for dinner.”

“I wouldn’t eat you. I prefer my food to look a little more appetizing.”

Matt turned his face toward Clint and raised an eyebrow. “Was that a blind joke?” He thought back over their conversations. “Has everything you’ve been saying been a blind joke?”

“...no? I definitely said ‘hold up’ and that wasn’t a blind joke.”

“Oh my god,” Matt said with a sigh. He rubbed his hand down his face. “Nevermind. You can go get your own food.”

“No, wait, I’m sorry, okay? I take it back. You look very nice. Well, I mean you don’t _look_ nice but you’re attractive enough I guess and I’m sorry about the jokes, they’re just habit anymore, and I really need your help.”

Matt froze. “What?” he asked.

“Okay, um. Coming clean.” Clint took a deep breath. “You’re, uh, Matt Murdock, right?”

There was a beat of silence between the men. “How do you know that?” Matt asked, finally.

“I sort of was, um. Watching you. I need your help, and I didn’t know how to find you.”

“What in the world did you need my help for so badly that you needed to trick me into attending an anger management meeting?”

“It’s my friend. She needs your help. Well, she needs someone’s help, and I figured you were my best bet.”

Matt thought of his career as a law intern, and not exactly a very good intern. “What the hell kind of shit are you in that you thought coming to me was your best option?”

“It’s the Shostakov case. You’re on that?”

Matt stepped forward, hoping he wasn’t about to run into the man. “How do you know about that?” he hissed. “That is confidential--”

“It’s my friend. Can we maybe talk about this inside?” Clint’s stomach rumbled again. “I swear I’ll explain everything I can.”

Matt sighed. “Lead the way,” he said, gesturing wide.

——————————

“I’m getting a BLT,” Clint said. “What do you want?”

“Just a cup of coffee, please.”

“Make that two.”

“You got it.” The waitress snapped her pen and walked off.

Matt leaned forward across the table. “So. Start explaining.”

“All right.” Clint blew out his breath. “You’re on the case. You know Shostakov.”

“Unfortunately yes.” Alexi Shostakov, a Russian crime lord known for trafficking drugs and people as well as suspected of multiple counts of murder. And just like Al Capone, he’d been caught out on a technicality. His above-ground business was about to go belly-up due to shoddy cover-ups and illegal transactions. The government was suing the company, which would leave Shostakov practically bankrupt and nowhere left to go in the United States.

That was not the case Matt was assigned to.

Landman & Zack had been hired by Shostakov directly, as opposed to through his company, in order to attack his ex-wife, Natalia Romanova. She was accused of destroying his personal property and abusing his animals as well as taking jewelry and selling it even after she left him two years previous. More seriously, he was accusing her of marrying him only to gain American citizenship, and claiming that she should be deported back to Russia.

Matt didn’t like Shostakov, but he had no way of stopping the case, especially since Ms. Romanova and her lawyers had not made any contact or attempted to make a settlement outside of court. If they could find out where the woman was, the courts would issue a subpoena.

“So you know what a dirty scoundrel he is,” Clint went on.

“I’ve got an idea.”

“But you’re still covering his case.”

Matt grit his teeth, but he tried to shrug casually. “There’s not much I can do. I’m assigned to the case, and we have nothing from the opposition to work with.”

“What if I told you I could get you access to Romanova?”

“What?”

“Here’s your coffee, gentlemen.” The waitress set two mugs down on the table. “Your handle’s on the left, sir,” she told Matt before leaving.

Clint tapped at the table a few times before grabbing his coffee cup. “If you’re willing to help, I can put you in touch with Natalia Romanova,” he said under his breath. “She’s hiding out from her ex-husband right now, for reasons I’m hoping are fairly obvious. That’s why she’s going through me, and I’m going through you instead of contacting your bosses directly, and I’m going through the most roundabout means possible to try to reach you.”

“You could’ve just called,” Matt grumped, “instead of tricking me into a meeting I didn’t want to go to.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I didn’t…” Clint sighed. “I didn’t know what to do. I need to keep her safe, you know?”

Matt sighed. “And freaking out my best friend so he’d think I had anger management problems seemed like the best possible option? Couldn’t have just caught me at an event?”

“The only time you ever seem to leave the house is for work and the occasional trip to skulk around back alleys looking for bullies to punch out. I’ve been trying to figure out how to get close to you for a month now, and with the punching people I thought maybe anger management wasn’t such a bad idea.”

“You’ve been following me?” Matt’s grip on his coffee cup tightened.

“Like I said. I’ve been trying to figure out how to talk to you without suspicion. I’ll freely admit I’m not the smartest person in the room, and I’m sorry I couldn’t come up with something better.”

“Like actually going to one of the real lawyers on the case?”

“I needed an in,” Clint said. “And from what I could tell based on your past cases, you’re also one of the only decent people at that firm, so there was that, too.”

Matt rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “So you have picked out a junior lawyer at a lawfirm representing the person attacking your...friend, and you have contacted said junior lawyer by reverse pickpocketing them in the street in order to drag them to a diner in the middle of the night and telling them about your plan to take down Shostakov, which is exactly…?”

“Well, mostly getting you involved. And admittedly, I’m kind of winging it by now.”

“Right. Well. Thank you for all that. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Matt stood to go.

“Wait, no, where are you going?”

“I’m leaving. Before your crazy starts to rub off on me.”

“I...you...you can’t just walk away! We need you!”

Matt reached into his wallet, pulled out one of the bills earmarked as a ten, and left.

——————————

Matt’s apartment was cold, and the heater rattled loudly without expelling much in the way of actual heat. It also smelled of mildew, and his upstairs neighbors were extremely loud whether they were fighting or making up from the fights. He kept meaning to find a new place to stay, but so far he hadn’t had the time to go apartment hunting.

Not that he’d have more time now. He still had to deal with the same workload, except now with the added wrinkle of a potential stalker. He sighed and checked his phone for the time.

“8:22,” the phone read out for him.

“That’s not so late,” he murmured to himself. “Call Foggy,” he said into the phone.

Foggy answered on the second ring. “Hey, Matt! How did the meeting go?”

“Uh.” Matt had forgotten about the meeting. “It was, um. I left.”

“Oh. Well. That bad, huh?”

God bless Foggy Nelson. “Actually, I ran into someone there, and we went out to talk.”

“Really? An old friend or something?” Foggy sounded equal parts excited and a little...sad? Jealous?

“No, actually.” Matt laughed, totally devoid of humor. “Someone who knew about the case.”

“Wait, like, the current case?” Foggy asked. “Who? Did you get roughed up by some thugs?”

“Not exactly. It wasn’t even from our guy. It was Romanova.”

“You met her?” Foggy asked. “Was she hot?”

“How the hell would I even know that?”

“I don’t know. It’s kind of weird, actually, but if you end up with a girl she always turns out to be hot.”

“Well, it wasn’t her, so even if I wasn’t blind I couldn’t tell you. It was one of her friends. He wanted me to talk to her.”

“So you got her number,” Foggy said.

“What? No. This guy was stalking me, trying to get me into a secluded spot so he could talk to me without Shostakov knowing. I told him no and left.”

“You left? You’ve been dying for more information on this case, and then when some turns up literally on your doorstep, you say no?”

“He was following me from my house, Foggy! This isn’t exactly the kind of guy I want to trust!”

“You don’t have to trust him. You just have to work with him until we can get this case sorted out. This is the only lead we have. You have to get in touch with him again.”

“Well I don’t know how we’re going to do that. I don’t--” Matt stuffed his hands into his pockets and pulled out a small piece of paper. It felt like the ripped edge of a napkin, with pencil mark indentations.

“Don’t what?”

Matt sighed. “I think I’m going to have a phone number for you tomorrow.”


	2. Communion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I lost my mind in the city of lights, in the backstreet buildings and the neon lights._  
>  “[Jungle](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aqXW57WM9TA),” X Ambassadors, Jamie N Commons

The napkin piece held not only a phone number, but also a complete name. After some quick research on Clint Barton, Matt and Foggy were able to discover that Barton was a war hero now working for Stark Industries, likely since he and another soldier had been the ones to rescue Stark in Afghanistan. Stark had later gotten a lot of attention for firing his CEO and stopping all production of weapons, a decision never fully explained, but the company had continued on with the recently appointed Pepper Potts at the helm. It was difficult for Matt to imagine what sort of work an ex-soldier could have at a tech company, but Foggy suggested it was probably some sort of security detail.

Foggy called the number at work and set the phone to speaker mode. It rang seven times before there was a response.

“Hello?” Clint said. His voice was echoing strangely, even for a speakerphone call.

“Clint Barton?” Matt said. “This is Matt Murdock. I wanted to talk to you--”

“Woah, hold on, I can’t hear you very well. Are you guys on speakerphone?”

“Yeah?” Foggy said.

“Take it off. I don’t want anyone else to hear this.”

“It’s just me and my friend Mr. Nelson in the room,” Matt said.

“All right, well, just speak up. And hurry. I gotta get back to work before my boss notices I’m gone.”

Foggy cleared his throat and leaned in to speak more directly into the cell phone. “You mentioned that you would be able to get us in touch with Natalia Romanova?”

“Yeah, might’ve. You guys interested?”

Matt frowned and whispered at Foggy, “You sure about this?”

“I think we have to,” Foggy whispered back.

“We’re interested,” Matt said loudly into the phone.

“Awesome. I’ll set up a meeting. You guys free tonight? What’s a place you usually go?”

“Uh.” Matt fought to think of a usual location for himself.

“Josie’s bar,” Foggy supplied. “It’s a little dive just a few blocks over from my place.”

“Great. Be there tonight. We’ll find you.” Clint hung up the phone.

——————————

Josie’s was a small place, not usually very busy, and Foggy seemed to know everyone there. After the third person Foggy said hi to, Matt asked, “You come here a lot, then?”

“Well, you know. It’s nice to have somewhere to go other than my apartment.” Foggy knocked gently against Matt’s shoulder with his own. “It’d also be nice if you wanted to come with me sometime. Someone drinking alone at the bar, they start to get funny looks.”

Matt smiled, small and almost hidden. “I’ll remember that. Let me know next time you’re coming out and I’ll try to join you.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Here you go, boys.” The bartender slid two beers across the counter. Foggy grabbed both and held one steady while Matt reached out to grab it.

“Put it on my tab, Josie,” Foggy said.

Josie huffed. “You don’t have a tab.”

“I like her,” Matt said.

“Ooh, you’ll like this next one better,” Foggy said, patting Matt’s arm. “Coming your way. All right, you’re the hot one, put on your best smile. You’ve got this one.”

“Foggy, we’re here on business,” Matt hissed in response. The stool next to him squeaked as someone sat down.

“Two beers, please,” said a low, sultry voice.

“Damn,” Foggy whispered.

Matt smiled at the person next to him anyway. “You here with someone?” he asked.

“Yes,” the woman said, “I’m here with a friend. We’ve got a booth in the back. Did you want to come sit with us?”

“Absolutely!” Foggy said.

“Actually,” Matt said, “I’m waiting for someone. Sorry.”

“Well, all right. Just come on back if you change your mind. My friend tells these great stories about the time he saved some billionaire from a rocket blast.”

Matt finally clued in. “Really? Well that sounds interesting. What table are you at again?”

“This way.”

Foggy put a hand on Matt’s elbow and the two headed to the back together, sliding into a booth opposite the woman.

“Clint?” Matt asked as he sat.

“In the flesh,” Clint said.

“And you’re--?” Foggy began.

“Natasha Romanoff, please. Good to meet you two.”

Matt held out his hand for her to shake. “So what’s with all the subterfuge?”

“My ex-husband is a vindictive man. I would rather be safe than sorry.”

“Not to mention this is kind of her thing. Ow!”

Foggy asked, “Did you just kick him?”

“Look, let’s cut to the chase.” Natasha leaned on the wobbly table. “I’m not particularly sure if you two are actually going to be able to help me, but you’re my only hope right now, so I’m going to give you whatever I can and hope for the best.”

“Should you really be telling us anything?” Matt asked. “Technically, we work for the enemy.”

“But you’re good guys,” Clint said. “Maybe working for a shit company, but you two still care enough that you’re already gumming up the works, looking for answers. So we figured maybe we could give you a little more gum.”

“Or at least a little more impetus,” Natasha added. “First things first, you should know that the records from my move into the country were falsified. My handler in Russia, Ivan Petrovitch, created a birth certificate for me when my own couldn’t be found. In order to sell me off to Alexi as quickly as possible, he said that I was 18 years old at the time of marriage.”

“And how old are you?” Foggy asked.

“Then? I’m not sure. I think fifteen. It was six years after Ivan found me. I spent my time in Russia training as a dancer and in various...other skills. The group I was with was known for creating powerful women, the sort of woman that Alexi wanted to have at his beck and call. I didn’t want any part of him. I left him a month after the marriage.”

“He claims you only left him two years ago.”

“He’s a liar,” Natasha hissed. “I didn’t steal from him, and I didn’t marry him for citizenship. He was the one who had me brought over here, and now that I’ve finally managed to carve out a life for myself here he wants to take it away from me.”

“Hey, shh, it’s okay,” Clint said quietly. “It’s okay. We’ll stop him. You’re not going to get taken away.”

Foggy tapped on the table a few times. “Here’s the part I don’t get. You work for Stark, you’re clearly in his good books. Why not go to him for help?”

“We lived on the streets for a few years,” Natasha snarled. “I did things to get by, but it’s the kind of stuff that wouldn’t fly well with someone like Stark.”

“His favor on me can only go so far,” Clint added quickly.

Matt frowned, but Foggy said slowly, “I guess that makes sense. But that means that you’re left with us, a pair of junior lawyers, to try to protect you, a woman under attack from her crime lord ex-husband, when the company we work for is trying to help said crime lord ex-husband.”

“Well when you say it like that it sounds crazy,” Clint said.

Matt snorted. “What even makes you think we’d be able to pull something like this off, even if we wanted to help you? Do you even have any evidence to back up your claims?”

“I know it seems impossible,” Natasha said. “Why do you think we’ve waited this long to make a move? We’ve just been trying to figure out our options. And you two are our best hope.”

“We can’t let Shostakov win,” Clint said. “He’s a drug lord, a murderer, and a weapons and human trafficker. And if he manages to get money out of Natasha, you can bet he’ll use it to get out of the country and start over again somewhere else.”

“How would he even get money out of you?” Matt asked. “If you have nothing…”

“It doesn’t matter,” Natasha said. “He’ll take whatever he can get out of me, and I’ll have to go back to Russia.”

“So will you help us?” Clint asked.

Foggy hesitated. Matt turned toward his partner. “I think we’re going to need some time to think on this,” he said. “We’ll get back to you.”

——————————

Matt found himself in church. The building was, as far as he could tell, empty of people. This was not overly surprising for ten o’clock on a Tuesday night. It was actually preferred.

He sat in the third pew from the back, on the right side of the church.

After almost twenty minutes, a door opened at the front of the church. There were shuffling footsteps, and a small voice, low and gravelly, asked, “Would you like someone to talk to? Or are you here for personal reflection?”

Matt shuffled, gripping the cane in his hands. “I’m not really sure you can help me,” he said to the priest.

“If you’re wrestling with something, I have a little experience in that area.” The man settled onto the bench in front of Matt.

“Should I do this in a confessional?” Matt asked with a small laugh. “I’m pretty sure I’m not allowed to talk about a lot of...this.”

“What about in general terms? I promise not to tell anyone.”

Matt blew through puffed cheeks. “I work for...my job is to defend people. Or I thought it was. But I’m helping someone now who I’m not really sure I should be helping.”

The priest merely murmured in encouragement.

“And I might have a chance now to...switch sides, I suppose. I’m not even sure what I would do. And the people I’d be helping, I’m not sure if I even want to help them.”

“So what do you want?”

Matt paused. “I wanted...I still want, I guess. I want to help people. Good people.”

“And how do you define who is good?”

“I don’t know.” Matt frowned and dropped his head.

“Then by what right do you deny anyone help?”

“I can’t help someone to hurt other people. I want to stop people from hurting others.”

“And can you do that?”

Matt unfolded and sighed again. He slid his hands over his cane. “I can probably try.”

——————————

“Who the hell calls at ass o’clock in the morning?” Clint complained.

“It’s like eight,” Matt replied.

“And I start work at ten, and I don’t ever wake up before eight thirty, so please tell me this is something important.”

“We want to help,” Foggy said.

Clint yawned. “Really?” he asked slowly. Then, brighter, “Oh, shit, really? That’s awesome!”

“But we’re going to need things from you,” Matt said. “You and Natasha.”

“What? What do you need?”

“Mostly evidence that she was on her own a lot earlier than Shostakov is claiming,” Foggy said. “Work that she did, where she was living, how she was taking care of herself. We need witnesses, at least, though a paper trail would be better.”

“Um. Okay. Well. I can try to talk to some people and get that for you. It might be a little hard. We mentioned it was mostly stuff off the records?”

“Even where you were living? If you could give bank records for hotel rooms or apartments, that would be extremely helpful.”

“I, um. I’ll see what I can do?”

“Okay.” Matt tapped his fingers on his knee. “Try to get that to us as soon as you can. And to Natasha’s lawyers. You’ll need to find someone. I can try to give you some recommendations, but you’ll need someone who isn’t literally working for the opposition.”

“All right, we’ll work on it,” Clint said. “Anything else you need?”

“Aside from a stiff drink?” Matt asked. Foggy leaned across their table to punch him lightly on the arm.

Clint chuckled. “Maybe not at work. And no punching people either.”

“What?” Foggy said. “How did--?”

“I was talking to Matt.”

Matt spluttered, feeling Foggy’s inquisitive gaze. “I don’t, I--I’m blind!”

“Yes, I’m aware. Hey, if you still want that stiff drink after work, let me know. I’ll buy first round or two for you and your friend. You know, for helping us out with everything.”

“Sounds good to me,” Foggy said.

Matt considered for a moment. “Yeah, all right.”

“Josie’s again?”

“You know it.”

“Great. See you later.”

Matt turned off his phone and tapped it against his chin. “I swear he says that on purpose.”

——————————

Clint met Foggy and Matt outside Josie’s bar at nine.

“No Natasha?” Foggy asked, only sounding a little disappointed.

“Nah, she decided to stay in. But you’ve still got me!” Clint clapped a hand on each of their shoulders. “Hey, Foggy, how are you at darts?”

Matt sipped a scotch while Clint and Foggy played. He started laughing at the sound of Foggy’s growing consternation.

“No one can make that shot,” Foggy was saying. “You’ve already got three in there!” There was a small whoosh and a thud, followed by Foggy’s loud complaints of “That’s cheating! There’s no way you’re doing that without cheating! Matt, tell Clint he’s cheating.”

“I have no way of judging whether he is cheating or not,” Matt reminded him.

“I’m telling you! Don’t you trust me? Back me up, buddy.”

“Don’t tell me you guys rely on that kind of circle judgment on your cases,” Clint said. “I told you it’s true, so now you are my second witness?”

“You just got four darts into, like, half an inch of space. That’s not even possible!”

“You want to go another round and prove me wrong?”

“No thanks, I am done. We play any more and I think you’ll break physics.”

“What about you, Matt? Wanna play?”

Matt growled under his breath. “Funny. Thanks, Clint.”

“What? You can play. You know how it works, right? I point you in the direction of the dartboard, you throw the darts. I’ll even let you know how you did. Just don’t throw totally wild or you might hit something other than the target.”

“Like your ass?” Matt caught himself grinning and waved a hand dismissively in the air. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll pass.”

“All right, that’s fine. Hey Foggy, do you like pool?”

“I actually do, so to keep it that way I think I’m not going to play with you,” Foggy groused. “Are you good at all sports?”

“Pretty much,” Clint admitted. “Especially things that involve aiming and shooting. It’s a gift.”

“And how long did you have to work to develop that gift?” Matt asked, raising an eyebrow.

Clint laughed. “Only about twenty years.” He finished off his beer and set it down next to Matt. “I’ll be right back. I’m gonna take a leak.”

Foggy plopped down in the seat next to Matt. “This is fun,” he said.

“Even though you got your ass kicked at darts?”

“I’m telling you, it’s not human!” Foggy spluttered. “But not that. This. Just hanging out with you. We haven’t done this since college.”

“What? Yes we have.”

“Um, no, we haven’t. You’re always busy anymore with the cases. Even the last time we came here was on a case. This case!”

Matt frowned. “You’re busy, too.”

“I know how to leave my work at work better than you do, at least.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Matt growled.

“Look, I’m just...saying...you get...really intense. You’ve been super intense about this case especially. I’m glad you’re having a chance to relax tonight.”

Matt’s shoulders tensed, but before he could say anything else Clint returned and leaned up against the bar on Matt’s other side. “Did I miss anything?” he asked loudly.

“No,” Matt said.

There was a moment’s pause before Foggy sighed and said, “Yeah, nothing much. You guys think you’re up for another round?”

Matt rolled his empty glass of scotch on the counter before dropping it and rubbing a hand down his face. “No, I’m good.” He pulled out his wallet and felt at the bills in there to find one with a large fold marking it as a twenty. “In fact, I think I’m gonna head out. I’m getting tired.”

“Already?” Clint asked. “I was just starting to have fun!”

“I gotta get some sleep. You know. So I can go to work and save your friend.” Matt pushed himself away from the counter and grabbed his cane, making his way toward the front door.

Once outside, he took a deep breath, immediately regretted it as he nearly choked on the scent of garbage and old vomit, and started heading home. Not three steps from the door, though, he heard muffled cries coming from the alley down the street. He jogged toward the noise and ground to a stop as he felt the air change, signaling an opening in the wall to his right.

“Gonna cry?” he heard a man say. “Let me hear you!”

A smile, wide and full of too many teeth, crept across Matt’s face. He stepped into the alley. “Is there a problem here?” he asked, pitching his voice low.

There was a moment of silence before a second man called, “Hey buddy, why don’t you just back off?”

“Not gonna happen,” Matt growled, approaching them. He dropped his cane to the side and started rolling up his sleeves.

“Woah, hey, man, no need to get violent!”

“You aren’t really giving me much choice, are you?”

“What?” one of the men asked, confused.

“Matt?” Clint interrupted. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve got this,” Matt snapped. He felt a hand on his shoulder and spun around, hands up. His left hand smacked hard into something that snapped under his fist.

“Ow!” Clint shouted, wheeling away. “Oh by gah! Fuck! Wha da hell?”

Matt stood totally still, hands still raised and curled into fists. “Did...are you…?”

“Yeah, I’b, I’b fie.” Clint’s voice was smothered, hand over his mouth. “You doo guyz, ged oudda heah.”

Belatedly, Matt remembered the people in the alley. He’d heard two male voices, both telling him to leave. “Two?” he asked quietly. “Wasn’t there…?” Matt heard the sound of clothing rustling and a zipper being pulled up.

“Hey, thanks man,” one of the men said to Clint, sidling past Matt, who backed up against the wall and unclenched his fists.

“What just happened?” Matt asked.

“I dunno,” Clint said. “You dell be. Aw, fuck. I dink you broke by doze.”

“Fuck,” Matt hissed. “We gotta get you to a hospital. Come on. Let’s find Foggy and we’ll get you a taxi.”

The two went back to the bar, Clint pausing to fumble on the ground for a moment and grab Matt’s cane, handing it back to him slightly sticky with blood.

“So, uh,” Clint continued, voice still edging on light and joking, “you make a habid of beading ub on gay dudes in alleys? ‘Cuz thad’s nod gonna fly wid be.”

“I thought they were attacking someone,” Matt mumbled.

“Can’ heah you,” Clint reminded him.

“I thought they were hurting someone,” Matt said with a sigh. 

“So you were’ jus lookin’ for a fide? ‘Cuz nex dime, jus lebbe doh. Heh. I dake a bunch good whed I’b nod subrised.”

“Don’t you mean you stop a punch good when you’re not surprised?”

Clint laughed, a little wet as some of the blood from his nose bubbled. “Yeah. Tha’ doo.” They pulled open the door to the bar, and Foggy immediately jumped up and ran over.

“Oh my god, what happened?” he asked.

“Fuckin’ delephone boles, am I ri’, Mad?” Clint said with a grin.


	3. Prayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Yeah, I get it, you’re an outcast, always under attack, always coming in last, bringing up the past. No one owes you anything._  
>  “[Sound of Madness](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WGt-8adyabk),” Shinedown

Matt and Foggy sat in the hospital waiting for Clint to get his nose fixed. Two hours after they’d arrived at urgent care, Clint came out of the back.

“Ta-da!” he said. “What do you think?”

“How did you get a purple bandage?” Foggy asked, standing. Matt, next to him, also stood.

“The nurses here love me. And they said it would match my eyes. What do you think?”

“You look like a raccoon,” Foggy said.

Clint laughed. “All right, well, then let’s go show off my new look. Aw, wait, damn, what time is it?”

“It’s past eleven,” Matt said.

“Shoot. Okay, well, the train out to my place is stopped for the night. Any chance I can crash on one of your guys’s couches?”

Matt frowned. “Where exactly do you live?”

“Uh. Bed-Stuy?” Clint said.

“But you work for Stark,” Foggy said. “You commute in from Brooklyn every day? Why?”

“I like Brooklyn. Got friends from Brooklyn.”

“Well, I don’t have a lot of space, but I do have an empty couch...” Matt started.

“A couch is totally fine. Trust me, I’ve slept on way worse.”

“Oh,” Matt said, belatedly remembering just why Clint was working for Tony Stark anyway. “Right. Well. Then let’s go.”

——————————

Matt eased open the door to his apartment. “Light switch is on the wall,” he said. “Let me know if it isn't working. I can't do much about it but I’d rather know.” 

He heard the light click on, then back off. “Works fine,” Clint said. 

Matt frowned but didn't say anything. If Clint wanted to try to get around in the dark, that was his choice. Matt stepped out of the narrow entryway and into the living room with Clint right behind him. 

“I'll try to dig up some blankets,” Matt said. “Bathroom is the door on that wall.” He pointed toward the bathroom door. He went to the linen cupboard down the hallway and pulled out a few blankets that felt thick. Stepping back into the living room, he walked forward until his legs hit the couch and dropped the blankets there. “Do you need anything else?”

“No,” Clint said. “This is fine. I'm just a little wired still. There's a weird adrenaline rush that comes from this sort of busy night, you know?”

“Not really.”

“Oh.” Clint sat down heavily on the couch. “So are you too tired to talk?”

Matt sighed and reached forward until he could feel the armchair in front of him. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Want to play a game? I love games.”

“I don’t.”

“That’s because you don’t know how to have fun. Here, catch.”

A pillow hit Matt’s head. “What the hell?” Matt spluttered. He grabbed the pillow and threw it back in the direction of the couch.

“Put your hand up next time. I’ll always throw it right into your hand. You’ll look great. Here, try it.”

“Clint, I’m not going to--”

“Catch!” The pillow came back again. Matt hastily threw up his hands. The pillow bounced off his open palms. “No, you have to catch it. Just close your fingers around it.”

“This is so--”

“Catch!”

Matt still had his hand up. When the pillow hit his palm, he tried to catch it but his fingers closed too slowly and only scrabbled at the fabric.

“See, better already! We’ll make it a parlor trick. But you might have to have your hand up so that you’ve got more time to grab it before it falls away.”

“I’m not here to be your parlor trick!” Matt shouted. He stood up, fists clenched and breathing heavy. “My life is not a game, and I’m not here to entertain anyone or help them to feel better about themselves.”

Both men were silent for a moment before Clint spoke. “Okay. I get it. I’m sorry. I’ll stop.” 

Matt dropped back down onto the chair.

“Do you want me to go?” Clint asked. “I can get a taxi home.”

“No, it’s fine.” Matt waved a hand dismissively. “I’m just sick of people assuming things about me because I’m blind.”

“Like what?”

“Like I can’t take care of myself, or it’s some sort of joke.”

“All right, that makes sense. I’m sorry if I made it seem like you were a joke, or your blindness. I just...that’s how I cope with things. How I got over...this.”

Matt waited for a moment. “I have literally no idea what you are talking about.”

“What? Oh. Sorry. My ears. I...it’s more...recent. And I make jokes about it. It’s how I stopped feeling so awful about it. I’m sorry. I forget people don’t all work like I do.”

“How recent?” Matt asked.

“Um. Well. Two years? Shit. What day is it?” He grunted for a moment. “Shit. Is it March already? Yeah. Two years. Almost exactly. Two days from now. Though I didn’t get my shit together and start acting like a human being until like October.”

“How’d it happen?”

“Explosion. I was in Afghanistan, we were doing patrol and there was a bomb. I ran in to rescue a kid but the bomb went off and…boom.” Clint clapped his hands on his legs. “My sergeant, good friend of mine, he told me not to go. And then I went and got my ears blown up, and I was so embarrassed I didn’t talk to him for six months. I got out of the hospital and just sulked around for a while. 

“Finally got a letter from him, and he was so pissed, he’d gone and dug up my address and told me that just because I’d lost my hearing didn’t mean that I was allowed to just ditch my friends. He called me an idiot, said the blast had put more holes in my head than just my eardrums, and I just...I laughed.” Clint let out a breathy laugh. “I hadn’t laughed in six months. So I wrote him a letter back and I got a job from Stark and decided to start laughing about the mess instead of moping about it.”

“Well I’m glad that worked for you,” Matt grumped. Then he conceded, “Sounds like a good friend.”

“One of the best,” Clint said. “And it was just what I needed then. We try to stay in touch. I haven’t heard from him in a while, but I still send care packages when I can.” He muttered something under his breath that Matt didn’t quite catch before saying, “What about you? Were you born blind?”

Matt shook his head. “No. I was in an accident when I was a kid. There was a truck and a man in the intersection, and I pushed him out of the way. There were some chemicals in the truck, and they spilled and got in my eyes.”

Clint hissed. “Ow! Sounds brutal.”

“It took me years to readjust. I’d be doing well only to have a major setback, or just have a bad day. Then my dad died. He got shot after one of his matches. He was a boxer. And they killed him. I swore…” Matt choked on the words. “I swore I’d kill them. Every last one. And I didn’t know how.”

“Is that why you became a lawyer?”

Matt shrugged. “Maybe part of it.”

“But don’t you mostly do civil cases?”

“I actually specialized in defense in college. I’m a defense attorney. Isn’t that a joke? If I ran up against my dad’s killers today, I’d only keep them out of prison.”

Clint hummed. “You want to help people. Innocent people.”

“And now I’m working for Alexi Shostakov.” Matt ran his hands down his face. “I don’t think I’ve been further from helping innocent people.”

“Well. I mean, it’s not good. But no one is really innocent. We all do things we regret.” Clint sounded genuinely mournful.

“And what did you do that was so bad?”

“In the eyes of the law? Stealing to survive when I ended up on the streets.”

Matt waited. “And in your own eyes?”

The silence stretched on for a moment before Clint murmured, “Barney.”

“And how do you deal with that?”

“Like I said. I laugh. When things suck, you laugh until you can move past it. Or at least I do. What about you? What do you do when things go bad?”

“I get angry.” Matt ground his teeth. “I get angry, and I just want to hurt the people who hurt me.”

“And then you do it?”

Matt grinned. “Sometimes.”

“Nice.” Clint yawned. “All right, I guess I could probably head to bed now.”

“Okay.” Matt stood. He tried not to think about how he had just shared more with someone who was practically a stranger than he’d managed to share with just about anyone else except maybe Foggy. “Good night.”

“Night. Oh, wait! Tomorrow’s a Saturday, right? What are you doing?”

“Um. I was hoping to do some more looking at the case…”

“Okay, well, how about you meet up with Natasha tomorrow at a completely innocuous place and also come hang out with me? You can bring Foggy.”

“Uh, okay? What are we doing?”

“I’ve got an archery competition!”

——————————

“One of the judges is your type,” Foggy said. “I think you’ve got a chance if you play your cards right.”

Matt sat next to Foggy on a narrow wooden bench. “Remind me how we ended up here?” he hissed.

The sound of twanging bows and arrows thudding into targets ran through the smelly gym. Matt shifted in his seat, trying to ignore the way his pants sort of stuck to the bench.

“Natasha should be meeting us here soon,” Foggy whispered back. “Besides--oh! Wow!”

Matt winced away from Foggy’s sudden yell. “What? What was it?”

“Nice shot!” Foggy called out. “Right in the center,” he said to Matt.

“Clint?”

“No, we’re still on the junior group. Clint’s in the final group. These kids are mostly hitting the targets but still kind of all over the board. That’s why I was so impressed.”

“Hey boys.” Natasha’s silky voice drifted in from behind them. “How’ve you been?”

Foggy jumped. Matt’s hand clenched on his knee before he forced it to relax. “I’ve been bored,” he said calmly. “Not much to entertain me around here.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked.

“I was hoping to talk to you about your case,” Matt said under his breath.

A small hand grasped his shoulder and squeezed almost painfully. “Not here.” The words were spoken right into his ear. “Break away and meet me for coffee next door.” She brushed a small kiss on his cheek and sat back on the bench.

Foggy scooted over next to Matt. “So if you’ve got her, should I talk to the judge, then?” he whispered loudly.

“Sure, Foggy, go for it,” Matt said with a chuckle. “Though I don’t think what our friend here wants for me is exactly what you are imagining.”

“And that concludes the shooting for the level two contestants,” someone announced.

“What level is Clint in?” Matt asked.

“Five, I think.”

Matt groaned and sunk low in the seat. “I think I’ll go grab a coffee from next door,” he said. “Let me know who wins.” He stood and headed for the exit. He followed his nose to the coffee shop and ordered a latte before grabbing a seat by the back wall. Natasha slid into the seat across from him a moment later with a murmured hello.

“Aren’t you going to miss Clint’s shooting?”

“I’ve seen him make way more impressive shots than what he can do in that gym. I’ll be fine.”

“And this is secure enough for you?” Matt asked, eyebrows raised.

“I like this place. It’s small and doesn’t get a lot of people coming around. There’s no one around us right now. So let’s talk. What do you want to know?”

Matt opened and closed his mouth. “Why are there no records of where you were living after you left your husband?”

“Why do you think?”

“You didn’t have a permanent address.”

“Or a bank account to mark my transactions, or someone who can verify my location outside of the other practically homeless people I was living with.”

“What did you do for a living? What have you been doing?”

Natasha sighed. “Clint thinks we should trust you. I’m not sure I’ve made up my mind yet.”

Matt leaned forward across the table. “I know you tried to get away from someone who was hurting you. I know you were trying to survive. I’m not going to repeat anything you say except maybe to Foggy.”

“Well. If you’re making the offer.” Natasha leaned on the other side of the table. Matt could smell her shampoo as their heads grew close. “Have you ever heard of the Widow?”

Matt pulled back and blinked in shock. “Really?” he asked. “You’re…?”

“I came to America with a very specialized skill set. And I needed a way to take care of myself.”

“So you...the theft from Hammer? Osborne?”

“It’s been an interesting six years.”

Matt thought back to his information regarding the infamous cat burglar, known to most as the Widow. “Everyone thought you died last year. No one could find you.”

“I decided to try something new.”

“Why?”

“I ran into an old friend who was working at Stark Industries. He convinced me to try going straight. Let me stay with him for a while and helped me find a job.”

Matt paused. He fiddled with the coffee cup in his hand. “You know. My intel says that the Widow worked with a partner on a few jobs. And about four years ago that partner disappeared, too.”

“I can’t say anything about that.”

“How did you meet Clint?”

“I was 16. I’d been living on my own for about a month. He found me and said that maybe it would be better working with someone for a little while. He’s a good friend. He always takes care of people, even when it’s hurting him.”

“That’s not going to be enough in court. It’s not going to be enough to intimidate Shostakov into backing off the case before that point.”

“I know that. That’s why I’m not asking him to be a witness.”

Matt’s head fell forward.

“You’ll figure it out,” Natasha said. “You’re smart. You can do this. And I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

“What happened to not believing in me?”

“I believe that you can do this. I’m not sure that you will.” She scooted out of the booth and left Matt cradling his cooling coffee.

——————————

When Matt finally wandered back over to the gym, he waited by the door instead of working his way back into the bleachers. After a few minutes, Foggy came up next to him.

“You missed it,” he said. “Clint did great, but he almost got his ass beat by a high school kid. She scored right behind him in points. He’s talking to her now. I told him it’s creepy to hit on someone in high school, but he said he just wanted a rematch.”

“But he won,” Matt said, confused.

“Yeah. I think he’s just excited to have someone else who’s basically at his level. I mean, I’m telling you, it was awesome. All ten shots, like pew pew pew.”

“Pew pew?”

“I don’t know. What sound do you have for arrows?”

“I like ‘twang twang,’” Clint said, coming up to stand next to them. “You guys ready to ditch this place?”

“Did you get the girl’s number?” Matt asked.

“Her name is Kate,” Clint said. “And I did. I think. She might’ve given me a fake, actually. Which would be smart of her. Shouldn’t give out your number to strange older men. I’ll be proud of her if it’s fake, actually. But her name is definitely Kate. They announced it when she won.”

“Well, then, let’s go,” Foggy said. “I’m getting hungry.”

“I know the perfect place,” Clint offered. “Come on, my treat.”

——————————

They ended up at a small restaurant in Chinatown. When they pulled up in the taxi, Clint jumped out first.

“All right, I’m gonna talk to the owners really quick. I think we can use the back room. And we might even have some company.”

Matt and Foggy followed slowly behind him. Clint did secure the back room, and when they walked in Matt was unsurprised to hear a fourth person in the room and recognize a whiff of flowery shampoo.

“How’d the competition go?” Natasha asked.

“Clint lost,” Matt said.

“Clint almost lost,” Foggy said, at the same time that Clint said “I did not!”

“A kid almost outshot him,” Matt input.

“She was in high school and had been shooting for a while. And I definitely beat her.”

“Losing your edge, Barton?” Natasha asked.

While Clint grumbled and sat back in his chair, the other three laughed. They all ordered--Foggy read the menu for Matt, since there weren’t any braille menus--and sat back to wait for their food. When it arrived, Natasha whispered something to one of the waiters, and as they left the doors closed behind them.

“So,” Natasha said. “You think of anything else yet I can give you?”

“Not really. Though...can you tell me anything about Ivan Petrovitch? Maybe we can use that as a lead to follow back to your husband.”

There was silence at the table before Clint said, under his breath, “Tash, you don’t have to--”

“No. It’s fine. Ivan was my...he raised me. When my mother died, he took me in. And then sold me. I was sent to America when I was fifteen. I don’t know how many other girls Ivan had, but I do know I wasn’t the only one.”

“Do you know anything about where he is now?” Matt asked.

“No. I’m not even sure if he’s still alive.” Something in her voice seemed to suggest that there was a strong possibility that Petrovitch was dead.

“Is there any way to show that you were married while you were underage?”

“All the records will show that I was 18 when I married Alexi.”

“What about trying to prove you were married against your will?”

Foggy cut in. “That’s going to be impossible to prove. It’s all he-says she-says. We’ll have to try something else.”

“Unless there’s some way to show where she was living after leaving Shostakov, some sort of paper trail, I’m not sure what else we can do.”

“How, um.” Clint swallowed loudly. “How legal do these documents have to be?”

Foggy spluttered. “Are you suggesting we falsify documents? That’s perjury! We could all go to prison!”

“Well, that’s what I needed to know,” Clint muttered.

Matt sighed and shook his head. “This is hopeless.”

They sat for a while, picking at their food. From across the table, Clint started humming under his breath. Then he started singing.

“But y’gotta keep your head up, oh-oh,” he sang sotto voce. “And you can let your hair down, eh-eh. Ow!” The last part was shouted. “Forks don’t go there, Natasha!”

It was enough to break the tension. Matt laughed, and as they finished eating Foggy said, “We’ll come up with something. Don’t worry. Matt’s very determined about this sort of thing. It’ll be okay.”


	4. Offering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Now we’re in the ring and we’re coming for blood._  
>  “[Glory and Gore](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sOks2HArHf0),” Lorde

Sitting in the office the next week, Matt wished Foggy hadn’t been so optimistic. There seemed to be no way for Natasha to get out of the suit. The only thing they’d managed to determine was that Shostakov had officially divorced his wife approximately a year ago. He admitted that previous to that date, he hadn’t seen Natasha for a year, and so was unable to give her the divorce papers to sign.

“That’s two years apart,” Matt said to Foggy. Foggy shuffled some papers and put a folder down on the table.  “Out of the...six?”

“It’s not even half of the time. And it still leaves us four years that she could have been stealing from him, living off his dime. Not to mention what he’s claiming she did after she left. We need evidence, and we don’t have it.”

“What if there was something in Shostakov’s accounts?” Matt mused. “If we could look more closely at his records--”

“He’ll never let us do that.”

“But they’re already out as evidence!”

“For another case,” Foggy said. “A case that isn’t ours. We aren’t working with the DA, we’re working for Shostakov, and he hasn’t given us access to that.”

“What if he did? What if we could convince him to--”

“That’s never going to work, not if this is something that could go against him in this case.” Foggy sighed. “He’s too smart for that.”

Alexi Shostakov was smart and rich and had the upper hand in this, though he might not have the upper hand against the US government for very long. If they could stall or, better yet, get their hands on his accounts, then maybe this could work.

Matt frowned. His fingers danced across his knee. “What if...hmm.” He sighed and rubbed at his nose. “My god. It would require so much leg work.”

“What? What are you thinking/” Foggy scooted his seat forward.

A small smile crawled onto Matt’s face. “What if we could threaten him?”

“You want to threaten a Russian crime lord,” Foggy said, monotone, before spluttering, “That--you--Matt, that man will eat us for breakfast. Maybe literally.”

“Not us,” Matt assured him. “Just Natasha’s lawyers.”

——————————

“You still don’t have lawyers?!”

Matt sat in his living room, holding a bottle of beer between two fingers and rubbing his forehead. He fought to keep himself loose, to not tense up and hit Clint, this time on purpose.

“We’ve been working on it.”

“And what exactly does that include?”

“We’ve contacted people. I’ve done some research. Nobody who is any good wants to take us on, and nobody who is willing to take us on is someone we can trust.”

Matt groaned. “What have you been doing in the meantime? I know we’ve sent emails and made calls. Where have those been going?”

“Uh.”

“Please don’t tell me…”

“I’ve been sending a lot of weird emails,” Clint admitted. “And Pepper might think I have a girlfriend.”

“Pepper Potts.”

“Yeah.”

“The CEO of Stark Industries, who you were assigned to as a personal bodyguard, and you take breaks to answer phone calls to pretend to be Natasha’s lawyer.”

“I have never once admitted to being her lawyer.”

“What the hell have you been saying, then?”

“Mostly that I am relaying the information to the appropriate individuals and will be sure to let Miss Romanova know the details of the case.”

“This is unbelievable. I literally cannot believe what I am hearing right now.”

“Well what are we supposed to do?!” Clint’s hands slapped down on the armchair. “Unless it’s possible for me to pass the bar tomorrow, there’s not much I can do. Even if we could get someone to take our case, it’s not like we even have a plan for how to win. We’re pretty well fucked either way.”

Matt rubbed his face. “What if.” He sighed through his nose. “What if I had an idea. That would at least buy time. And maybe...I think...if we were lucky...maybe we could get him to back off completely?”

Clint said nothing for a while. Finally, Matt grew uncomfortable with the wait.

“You’ve gotta tell me what you’re thinking,” he said. “I can’t really read body language.”

“You’d really do that?” Clint said quietly.

“Well. I can try. But you’ll need to find a lawyer to submit the warrants for all the information.”

“Oh. Uh. What, um, what information?”

Matt groaned. “Clint. Foggy and I can’t be your lawyers.”

“Okay, but why not?”

“We are literally employed by the people fighting the other side of this case!”

“So quit.”

“And do what, just work on my own?”

“You’d have Foggy.”

“Just run off with Foggy and start my own practice.”

“Why not?”

“It’s impractical! We don’t have the money for that. And how will we get clients? What sort of law will we even do?”

“What have you been doing?” Clint’s voice dropped. “You’ve been working for a giant corporation, covering cases you don’t even like and working with people you don’t trust. And why? Because you’re too scared to leave the comfort of a safe job? That doesn’t sound like you.”

“What do you mean? You don’t know what I’m like.”

“Dude,” Clint said, “We had a whole bonding conversation. Here! In this apartment!”

“One conversation doesn’t mean you know me,” Matt shot back.

“All right, fair, but I’ll tell you what I do know. You want there to be justice in the world, and you’re not going to be able to fight for it at Landman & Zack. You’re willing to take this fight to the streets, where you might get shot and killed, but you won’t do it in a courtroom where you actually have the skills to help people.

“Come on, Matt.” The hint of mirth that always seemed to tint Clint’s voice faded away. “You want to be a hero so badly? You want to show people what you can do? Show us.”

Matt stood abruptly. “I need you to leave,” he said. “Please.”

“Yeah, sure. All right.” Clint walked to the kitchen and dropped his empty beer bottle into the recycling bin. “Just promise me you’ll think about it?”

“I need to be alone right now,” Matt responded, turning away.

“Okay.” The front door creaked open. “Bye.” Clint left without the usual _see you later_.

As the door clicked shut, Matt flopped back onto the couch and tried to ignore his growing headache.

——————————

Matt’s phone rang while he was at lunch the next day. It was his turn to grab food, so he was out picking up sandwiches for himself and Foggy.

“Clint. Clint,” his phone rang. Matt pulled out his phone and swiped at it a few times until it answered.

“Hey, what’s going on? Do you have anything for me?”

“Sort of. I just got word that Stark is coming back into town.”

The cashier at the sandwich shop called out. “Sir, your order is ready.”

“Thank you,” Matt said, holding out his hand and waiting for her to place the bag in it. “And what does that have to do with me?” he asked Clint.

“Well first of all it means my life is about to get way more hectic. Pepper is pretty boring, and working as one of her bodyguards is a pretty normal life. But Tony is an entirely different character.”

“I had gathered that from all the press surrounding him.”

“Right. And Pepper’s life gets more hectic when he’s around, and my life too, not just because I work for her. Tony actually likes me, which is not overly surprising I guess though some people think he’s just a giant ass, but he’s actually pretty cool, he started making me some new hearing aids--”

“Get to the point, please.”

“Okay, yes, sorry. Anyway. He’s having a party this Saturday, and I’m invited because of the whole war hero thing, and I’m inviting you.”

Matt stopped in the middle of the street on his walk back to the office. “Um. Thanks? But I...why?”

“Well mostly as an apology. I’ve been kind of an ass to you, first about the being blind thing and tricking you into a meeting and then the whole dragging you into the Natasha thing...so I figured a nice big party would be a way to make up for it. You could come, eat fancy food, drink fancy drinks, rub elbows with some big names, and hang out with me. If you want. I’m actually not very good at these sort of events, too, so it would be great to have someone there that I actually know a little better.”

Matt opened his mouth to turn down Clint’s offer, then actually thought it over for a minute. “Who all will be there?” he asked.

“Lots of people. Most of the big names. I don’t know.”

“Shostakov?”

“Don’t think so. Ever since the whole ‘finding out your CEO and guardian was supplying the enemy with weapons from your own company behind your back,’ Tony’s been checking his associates to make sure he doesn’t hang out with complete douchebags.”

“Well good for him, I guess.”

“So you’ll come?”

“I…” Matt frowned. “Yeah. Count me in.”

——————————

Foggy was pouting. “I can’t believe you didn’t invite me.”

“I didn’t realize he only could bring one person!” Matt said. “Can you please help me with this tie?”

“You’re going to a Stark party,” Foggy said, standing and coming over to Matt, “A genuine, actual Stark party, with actual Tony Stark, and you didn’t invite me.”

“Technically Clint didn’t invite you. I’m just going as his plus-one. I had no say in who got invited.”

“And Clint couldn’t manage to get a plus-two? Isn’t he friends with Stark?”

Matt shrugged. “Bring it up with him. Now, how do I look?”

“Like your usual handsome self,” Foggy sulked. “You’re going to go home with a beautiful girl tonight and I’m going to find out about it from the papers tomorrow.”

“I’m not going to end up in the newspaper.”

“You don’t know that!”

“I’ll do my best not to end up in the newspaper.” The door buzzer rang. “That’ll be Clint. You sure you’re going to be okay?” Matt asked.

Foggy grumbled in the corner about cocktails and hobnobbing.

“Foggy?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Have fun, and when you get back I expect you to tell me everything. Maybe not everything. But the good stuff.”

“I’ll do my best.” Matt hit the button next to the door. “It’s open,” he called into the speaker.

“You’re already not being safe! How do you know that was Clint? You could’ve let a murderer into this building. You need someone responsible with you at this thing--”

There was a knock on the door. Matt opened it. “Hey, Clint.”

“Hey. Ready to go?”

“Yup. Take care, Foggy.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Clint closed the door behind them and they headed downstairs. “We’re not really arriving in style. I hope you don’t mind. It’s just a taxi for us.”

“That’s fine,” Matt said. He heard a car door open and felt forward until he could feel the roof of the vehicle and slide inside. When he heard Clint get in on his other side, he asked, “So why not bring Natasha?”

“Aside from her keeping a low profile these days?” Clint asked. “She’s got work tonight.”

“What does she even do?”

“Babysitting, actually. It’s not a great job, but there is very little paperwork needed to be hired for that sort of job. And she’s working for a guy who’s got money coming out of his ears, so she does fine. She’s also been talking about it like it’s undercover work for an op, which I think makes it all more bearable.”

“Didn’t she rob all of the rich people in this town?”

“Not all of them. This guy’s pretty new to the area, anyway.”

“Will he be at the party tonight?”

Clint hummed. “That is an excellent question that I cannot give you the answer to.”

“How much do you actually know about what’s happening tonight?”

“Surprisingly little. We’re not going to be any sort of focus, though, so I’m not terribly concerned. I’ll go, grab all the food I can, and we’ll smile at some important people so that we look good. Fun, easy, relaxing. And we can ditch any time you feel uncomfortable.”

“I feel uncomfortable now.” Matt reached up and slid his fingers around the tight collar of his tuxedo shirt. “I think this outfit is too tight.”

“You look fine. You should dress up more often.”

“I wear a suit every day! I work in a law firm! I know how these things are supposed to fit.”

“Oh. Maybe. It’s a little late now, though. You just want to loosen the bowtie?” Clint reached over and undid the tie, retying it again so it sat looser around Matt’s neck.

Matt breathed in deep. “That’s a little better.”

“Good. Can’t have you passing out tonight.”

“Oh but why not?”

Clint pushed at Matt’s shoulder. “You’re not ditching me for the hospital. I’ve been there enough that I can tell you, it is not better than just toughing out the party.”

“What is that supposed to mean? How often do you end up in the hospital?”

“Hey look, we’re here!” Clint opened the door and ran around to open Matt’s door. “Mr. Murdock. May I have the pleasure of escorting you to the latest Stark Extravaganza?”

Matt held out his hand and gripped Clint’s arm placed under it. He extended his cane and leaned in close to Clint. “You are avoiding the question.”

“Yes, I’m quite good at that. All right, steps ahead of you, and then we’ll be in the crowd. Stick close to me.” The sound of shutter clicks began, and there was an increasing scent of overperfumed bodies crammed together. “Smile,” Clint murmured. “Let’s make a good impression for everyone.”

They stepped together through the reporters with very little hassle. Matt guessed that no one knew who they were, or didn’t care much about someone who was old news two years ago. At the door, they stopped.

“Hey, Mack,” Clint said. “Everything still good?”

“Yeah, we’re good. You got a new date? He looks sharp.”

“Matt’s a friend, but he’s definitely sharp. In more ways than one.”

Mack laughed, and Clint led Matt past the entryway and down a large, empty room. “Party’s upstairs. We’ll take the elevator.”

“Where’s everyone else?”

“Well, we’re taking the back way. We’re not exactly the star guests tonight, so I figured no one would mind if we snuck in instead of walking up the red carpet.” The elevator doors slid open and the two men stepped inside. “If it weren’t me coming in, Mack wouldn’t have let us through.”

“Stark trusts you a lot.”

Clint chuckled. “Yeah. No one told him what I was before being a soldier. Not that he’s really one to talk. Playboy turned philanthropist that he is. If anyone should know what it’s like to get a second chance it should be Tony Stark.”

“Which is why you’re asking for his help with Natasha.”

“I said he should know, not that he does. I care too much about her to turn her over to someone without fully trusting them.”

There was little Matt could say to that. The elevator came to a gentle stop and the doors slid open with a small ding. Matt reached out a hand again to Clint, who placed his arm within reach and stepped out.

The noise was louder upstairs, and though the ceiling felt high the room was warm and full with bodies.

“All right, how do you want to do this?” Clint asked. “We can go right for the snacks and drinks, we can look for interesting people to talk to, we can hide in the corner until someone comes to us...your pick.”

“Well, who all is here?”

“From here I can see...the mayor, the DA, a couple of billionaires, your basic playboy models…”

“Basic?”

“For a Stark party? Basic. For the food, it looks like they’ve got some fancy shrimp things dressed in...bacon? And...is that custard? In ice cups? What the hell is that even?”

“Fantastic descriptor. I am completely sold.”

“I’m sure it tastes good. Everything tastes good. I just don’t know what it is.”

Matt sighed and shook his head. “You said the DA was here?”

“Yeah. You wanna talk to her?”

“Won’t we be interrupting?”

“Come on. Everyone here is a guest for a reason. It’ll be good for you.” Clint tucked his arm under Matt’s again and led him into the mix of people.

“Mrs. Martinez,” Clint said. “How are you doing this evening?”

“I’m doing well, thank you.” The woman sounded slightly confused but affable. “I’m afraid I don’t think we’ve met before, Mister…?”

“Barton,” Clint said. “And this is my friend Mr. Matthew Murdock. He’s a young defense lawyer in the city.”

Matt held out his hand and felt a small, cold palm press against his own. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. Martinez.”

“Matthew Murdock? It’s nice to meet you. I’m afraid I haven’t heard of you before. Who do you work for?”

“I work with Landman & Zack,” Matt responded.

“Ah. Well, I know they produce some very fine lawyers, even if their practices are not always to be envied.”

Matt winced.

“Are you looking to stay with them or branch out? We could always use new lawyers working for the city.”

“I don’t have any definite plans for now,” Matt said with a small laugh.

“Well.” There was a slight rustling, and a small card was pressed into Matt’s hand. “You contact me if you change your mind. Your friend Mr. Barton here can help you with that number.”

“Thank you,” Matt said, tucking the business card into his pocket.

“I hope to hear from you soon, Mr. Murdock.”

“Thanks for your time,” Clint said. “We’ll leave you to your friends.” He pulled Matt away. “So, that go as badly as you thought?”

“No,” Matt said. He patted the business card in his pocket. “It was...nice, actually.”

“And here come the drinks. You have any allergies?”

“No.”

“Hold out your hand.” Clint pressed a cold glass into Matt’s fingers. “I think that’s champagne.”

Matt took a sip of the liquid. It was light and smooth with a fruity flavor. “That’s nice.”

“Only the best. Come on, let’s get you some food, and then we can go talk to some of the other people here.”

Clint led Matt around the room, pressing food and drinks into his hand and introducing him to various legal specialists and a few other big names. There were some major athletes, a couple models, and some musicians. And then, maybe an hour in, there was a commotion by the door.

“And that’ll be Stark,” Clint said. “You ready to meet him?”

“Uh, do we have to?”

Clint chuckled. “No. But wouldn’t it be great if you could say that you’d met Tony Stark? He might even remember your name. He’s surprisingly good with remembering people, especially people who can manage to impress him, which I’m sure you’ll do.”

“That’s a lot of trust to put in my abilities to wow people.”

“You wowed me.”

“That doesn’t actually sound that difficult.”

“Oh come on. Let’s go say hi before he creates an incident. Which we are still about an hour away from seeing but hey better safe than sorry.” Clint tugged on Matt’s arm. Matt followed, slowly but steadily.

“Tony!” Clint shouted. “Hey, how are you doing?”

“Oh god,” Matt said under his breath, but he could already smell the intensely strong aftershave that Stark must use, and he forced a smile onto his face.

“Hey there!” a booming voice said. “How’s my good friend Private Big Butt?”

Clint chortled. “I’m doing good. How’s my favorite mattress?”

Tony laughed back. “It’s been good, it’s good. I see you’ve been taking good care of Pepper here. Thanks for that.”

“Absolutely. She’s a great lady. It’s an honor to work for her. You chose your CEO well.”

“Indeed I did. And who’s your companion here?”

Clint patted Matt’s sleeve. “This is my friend Matt Murdock. He’s an attorney here in town, and he’s pretty good at darts.”

Tony laughed again. Matt felt his smile coming more naturally, and he held out his hand again, shaking the hand that grasped it firmly.

“It’s good to meet you, sir,” Matt said. 

“Now don’t tell me. You’re an attorney, you’re looking for a job here? Cosying up to my friend Barton here?”

“No, actually, I’ve already got a job. I…” Matt stopped. He’d been talking all night about his job at Landman & Zack. Did he really want that to be his big legacy of the evening? “I’m honored that you would ask, though,” he said instead.

“He’s one of  the best guys I know,” Clint said. “I’m actually the one trying to make friends with him. It’s hard to find people you can trust in this town.”

“Don’t I know it,” Tony said. “Well, if Barton vouches for you, I suppose you can’t be too bad. Murdock, it was, right?”

“That’s right, sir.”

“This man is making me feel all warm and cozy inside,” Tony said. “He keeps calling me ‘sir’ and treating me with respect. You could stand to learn something from him.”

“I’m aware,” Clint said. “I promise I’m working on it. I guess it’s just hard to remember these things--they never quite manage to penetrate my skull.”

“Yeah, you always were pretty hard-headed.”

“All the better to make stupid decisions with.”

“Right, well, you’ve got someone smart with you tonight keeping you safe. Stick close with him, Murdock. Make sure he doesn’t get in any trouble.”

“Will do,” Matt said, grinning. He turned easily and followed Clint away from the crowd.

“There,” Clint said. “That wasn’t so bad.”

Matt was still smiling. “No. I guess it wasn’t.”


	5. Benediction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Watch the fires rise under my skin, down to the bone, scorching my soul._  
>  “[Blood on My Name](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xz5Mx3a8kRw),” The Brothers Bright

Fogwell’s Gym, as Matt recalled it from visiting when he was a child, had never been a particularly clean or well-lit place. It was no cleaner now, or so he suspected from the way his shoes stuck slightly to the floor and the smell of sweat trying to hide beneath layers of deodorant and body spray. The stinging smell of the conditioning treatment for the mats and punching bags bit at his nose. 

He pushed a small roll of bills at the janitor, asked him to leave the lights off--whatever little bit of difference they did normally would do him no good--and made his way over to the far side of the room. He set his jacket on a chair, placed his cane on the ground next to it, and rolled up his sleeves, stepping onto the soft mat and reaching out to find the punching bag.

The first punch was for Shostakov, a tall and imposing devil with dark hair slicked back and too-white teeth. A punch each for his bosses, one short and weasley, the other tall and skeletal. He even threw in a punch for Clint, and one for Natasha, just for sticking him in this stupid predicament. 

He went his way through the rounds of usual baddies--the people who had killed his dad, the dean who told him he couldn’t be a lawyer with his disability--a few more times before the imaginary faces faded and he was just punching, striking left-right-left with increased intensity until his hands and arms ached.

Breathing heavily, he stumbled back and sat on the folding chair with his coat. It creaked disconcertingly under his weight. When he sat, his legs and his hands trembled. With a deep sigh, he dropped his head back and slumped in the chair.

“Fuck them,” he whispered. Then he balled up his fists, thrashed in the chair, and shouted. “Fuck!”

As he stilled, forcing in one deep breath after another, he forced himself to unclench and relax in the chair. Then he unfolded from the chair, collected his coat and cane, and went back home.

——————————

Matt paced in front of Landman & Zack despite the crisp wind cutting through his coat. Most people seemed to avoid him, but on a couple of quick turns he did bump into an irritated commuter. After the fifth collision, he finally decided he couldn’t put off this talk any longer.

He walked inside the large building and headed straight for the elevator, keeping his head down and avoiding any greetings. Waiting for the elevator and during the ride up to his floor, he bounced between toes and heels, his fingers playing across his cane like it was a clarinet. He paused again just outside the door to his office until he heard Foggy call out.

“Hey! I was starting to think I wouldn’t see you this morning. Party too hard last night?”

“Sort of.” Matt rubbed his forehead. He stepped into the room and headed for his desk. “I didn’t get much sleep.”

“You aren’t hungover, are you?”

“No. I tried to avoid drinking anything I didn’t know what it was, and Clint was not very useful at identifying the beverages. Or the food.”

Foggy laughed. “Yeah, I can buy that. Too bad you couldn’t have gone with me. Then I could’ve made the paper.”

“I did what?” Matt exclaimed, lunging forward.

“You didn’t make it,” Foggy clarified. “But there is a picture of Stark with Clint. Apparently he doesn’t usually make it to the parties, so people were sort of speculating why he showed up. And technically it wasn’t the paper, it was a gossip magazine. But still, it’s a picture. And you should’ve taken my warnings more seriously.”

“I guess so,” Matt mumbled. “I should listen to you more often.”

“Well actually.” Foggy took a deep breath. “I’m glad you said so, because there’s something I’ve been thinking about that I wanted to say.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I was thinking about the Shostakov case. And Natasha and Clint and...all that. You know.”

“I’ve got an idea, yes.”

“Right. And. I mean. You don’t like it here. I don’t like having to work for a couple of douchebags, and we could try to work on some of our own cases...it might be nice to have some sort of say in our clients.”

“So, to clarify,” Matt said, “You are suggesting…”

“Maybe we should start our own firm.” The words almost tripped over each other as they flew out. “I know it seems ridiculous, but--”

He was interrupted by Matt’s laughter, first quiet and then growing into a full-bellied chortle.

“Well you don’t have to be mean about it,” Foggy muttered.

“No, no,” Matt said, reaching out and putting his hand on the desk. “I’m...I was...I was actually just thinking about that. And I wasn’t sure how I was going to introduce the idea to you. I thought you’d hate me for trying. But here you are being braver than me. Again.”

“Oh. Um.” Foggy placed a hand carefully atop Matt’s and patted it for a moment before pulling away. “Well, thanks, I guess. So wait. You agree?”

Matt nodded. “Yeah. I think we could do it. I think we might even be happier than if we stay here, even if the pay is better at a big firm.”

“I don’t...who needs the pay?” Foggy only stumbled slightly over the words.

Matt chuckled again. “All right, well, at least we have a good idea of where to find our first clients. If we are serious about this, that is.”

There was a moment’s silence before Foggy said, “Sorry, I nodded. Yeah. I’m...I think I’m pretty sure. I want to do some more research, maybe. We should probably look for a place to work. Oh my god. We’ll get our own office.”

“And have to pay for it.”

Foggy groaned. “I was hoping we wouldn’t have to think about that part just yet.”

“One step at a time. Let’s start by telling Natasha about her new attorneys.”

——————————

Mid-April was much warmer than mid-March, but still cold enough that Foggy insisted on meeting Shostakov indoors instead of in a park. Matt vetoed the office, since they were trying to pass themselves off as a couple of impressive lawyers instead of the brand new Nelson & Murdock, co-renters of a small and unfurnished space in Hell’s Kitchen. Not to mention, the idea of meeting a crime lord in a quiet, out-of-the-way location sounded less appealing the more they thought about it.

Natasha suggested a restaurant, specifically the kind of restaurant that required a reservation weeks in advance and a very strict dress code. She offered to call in to a location as long as Matt and Foggy promised to get themselves some better suits. Clint, after a little badgering from Natasha, promised to foot the bill. He also offered to find a friend to add some muscle to the team.

On the night of the meeting, Matt and Foggy rented a limousine to take them the five blocks to the restaurant. Matt kept his fingers clenched around his cane and fiddled with the controls on the door of the car.

“I’m nervous,” Foggy said. “Are you nervous? Where’s the guy Clint promised us, anyway?”

“We’ll be fine,” Matt said, feeling a dribble of sweat on the back of his neck. He resisted pulling at his collar. “Mack is supposed to meet us at the restaurant. He’s apparently scoping it out for us.”

“He’s one of Clint’s work buddies, right? One of Stark’s bodyguards?”

“Yeah. So he’s a professional. And we’ll be in public, so nothing is going to happen.”

“I’m not worried about what he’s going to do here,” Foggy said. “Or, maybe I am, a little. I’m more concerned about what his hired goons are going to do to us after we leave and spend the rest of our lives without a private bodyguard.”

The limo slowed to a stop. Matt heard the door open on his side.

“Don’t worry, Foggy. We have the law on our side.”

“That’s not as reassuring as you seem to think it is.” Foggy slid out of the car behind Matt.

“Mr. Murdock?” a low voice asked. “Mr. Nelson?”

“That’s us,” Foggy said. “Are you Mr. Mackenzie?”

“Friends call me Mack.”

Matt held out his hand. Mack shook it with a firm, warm grip. “And we’re friends?” Matt asked.

“At least for tonight we are. I’d say any friend of Clint’s is a friend of mine, but he hangs out with some extremely strange and probably dangerous people. I’m hoping that you don’t fit under those categories.”

Foggy nudged Matt with his elbow. “Well, I’m pretty harmless, though Matt here has a mean right hook.”

Mack chuckled. “Well then I’ll make sure if things go south I’ve got you on my flank. Come on, let’s head inside.”

Foggy tucked his arm through Matt’s and they walked into the restaurant together. The maitre d’ checked their reservation and led them to a table in the center of the floor. Foggy and Matt took seats while Mack stood between them.

“What’s the time?” Matt asked.

“Almost seven,” Foggy replied. “They should be here any minute.”

“Looks like we’ve got company,” Mack murmured.

Matt stood, his chair gliding lightly against the carpet under him.

“Ah, Mr. Murdock. I’m glad to finally have the pleasure of meeting you.” Shostakov spoke with barely an accent. His voice was warm and comforting, like making s’mores near a campfire. He sounded like the kind of person that just wanted to be friends, who could help people achieve anything they wanted. Matt distrusted him immediately.

“Likewise, I’m sure.” Matt held out his hand. The shake was firm but oddly icy, and Matt could feel several rings on Shostakov’s hand. “Are you here alone?”

Foggy nudged Matt’s arm, but that was all the warning he got before their former boss, Mr. Landman, spoke up. “Certainly not. If there is to be a legal discussion of any kind it will be done in my presence.”

“It’s good to see you again, sir,” Foggy said. “I suppose that’s everyone then. Let’s all sit down.”

“Is Natalia not coming?” Shostakov asked.

Matt frowned for a moment as he sat before forcing a neutral expression. “She unfortunately couldn’t make it today, but be assured that she will be well informed of today’s proceedings.” He flashed a quick smile.

“Shall we get started with the meeting, then?” Foggy asked, his voice only quivering a little. Matt nodded and reached for his chair to sit again.

The waiter was at their side almost immediately. Matt, on Natasha’s suggestion, ordered a bottle of wine for the table.

“I see you have good taste,” Shostakov said. “At least in wine. Though perhaps your taste in company leaves something to be desired. My ex-wife is a tricky spider, though. I’m not surprised she caught you in her web.”

Matt resisted the urge to snipe back.  “Unfortunately, I didn’t just ask you here for the food and drink,” he said. _Stick to the script_ , he reminded himself. “We need to discuss the proceedings for this case.”

“Business already?” Shostakov asked.

“There’s no need to drag this out, is there?” Foggy replied.

Landman grunted. “So are you here to discuss terms?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Matt said.

“So she’s willing to return the stolen money and property?” Landman asked.

Foggy chuckled, probably with nerves but not everyone here needed to know that. “What stolen property?”

“Ah.” Landman sighed. “So you are denying the claim.”

“Based on a lack of evidence,” Matt said.

“What lack of evidence?” Shostakov growled. “You have access to my records and a list of all the items stolen, witnesses describing her attitude toward me, her own words, captured on tape at the mansion. She admits to never loving me, further showing that she was merely using the marriage as a means to get to the states and use my wealth to fund her own lifestyle.”

“You have records of the missing items,” Foggy said, “but no evidence that Miss Romanoff was indeed the person to take them. The items themselves were never found in her possession, and we have not had any records of withdrawals from your account in her name.”

Matt jumped in. “Of course, if we had exact records of your personal and business accounts, we could check through them to see who made which withdrawal from which account and where the money was transferred to, as well as any purchases made. All we have now from you is an estimated amount, but if we could be exact…”

“All right, so you just need access to the accounts?” Landman asked.

“And a paper trail for every item you claim was stolen by my client,” Matt said with a smile.

“From the time you purchased it,” Foggy continued, “to the time it left your possession. And we’ll need to have people check your home and work space to ensure that the item truly is missing, and we’ll need dates on when those items went missing. Those need to be as exact as possible, and we’ll need information on how much each item cost.”

“Also we will need to know exactly where you were during each of the professed thefts and whether or not Miss Romanoff was with you for any events.”

“Hold on here,” Shostakov said. “You can’t expect me to keep track of all of that.”

“You kept track of every item stolen,” Foggy said.

“Surely you can tell us when you noticed it missing so that we can cross-reference all the information.” Matt smiled and took a sip of his wine.

“Assuming we can even collect all of this information,” Landman said, “this will drag the case on for months.”

Foggy finally sounded more at ease. “We’re willing to wait.”

“This is ridiculous,” Shostakov said. He seemed to have gotten over the shock of the request and had gone back to his silky cadence from before. “We all know what the result of all of these proceedings will be. Natalia has no evidence. She has no leg to stand on. It will go easier on you and her if you give up now.”

There was the sound of someone else at the table breathing heavily, and belatedly Matt realized that Shostakov also would have brought a bodyguard. Next to Matt, Foggy swallowed loudly. Mack, standing between Foggy and Matt, shifted to readjust his weight.

Matt took a deep breath and ran a hand along the collapsed cane resting in his lap. “I believe that we both _do_ know what the result of these events will be, Mr. Shostakov. Which is why I am doing you the courtesy of allowing you the chance to bow out from this argument now.”

“You are in no position to be bargaining,” Shostakov said. “You are defending a guilty client. She is a thief, and you know it.”

“Unless you can provide evidence of her supposed crime,” Foggy said, “and do so very quickly, you are the one without a bargaining chip. And if you choose to pursue this case, we will be forced to subpoena you for the evidence.”

“What makes you think you can force me to do anything?” Shostakov was breaking again, his voice dropping and turning threatening.

“You’re not the only person with power in this city, Mr. Shostakov,” Matt said evenly. “And I doubt that you’ll be up for going a few rounds against Tony Stark in a few months.”

Mack shifted again next to Matt. There was a long silence at the table. In the pause, the waiter came back to the table.

“Have you decided on your appetizers yet?”

“Actually.” Shostakov leaned his weight on the table as he stood. “I’m afraid I’ve lost my appetite. We’ll be leaving now.” He came around the table and leaned down to whisper at Matt and Foggy. “This isn’t the last you’ll see of me.”

“On the contrary, Mr. Shostakov,” Matt said, “I won’t be seeing you ever again.” He tapped at his glasses and smiled. “But if you’d like to get in touch with me to discuss your options regarding this case, you can feel free to call. We’ll get back to you with our available times.”

Landman and Shostakov drifted away. Matt waited for a count of thirty before letting himself collapse with a sigh into his chair.

“Do you think we did it?” Foggy asked breathlessly.

“He looked pretty spooked,” Mack said. “I think you two did an excellent job.”

“Well thank you for that.” Matt waved across the table. “Now sit down and enjoy a celebratory meal with us. Clint’s treat.”

“It feels a little early to be celebrating,” Foggy said.

“We just threatened Alexi Shostakov and didn’t die immediately. We’re celebrating.” Matt picked up his wine and downed it in one gulp. “Someone pour me another glass.”

——————————

The call from Landman & Zack came through a few days later. Shostakov was dropping the case. Matt and Foggy, after taking a few minutes to cheer, decided to lay low for a few days in case there was a certain crime lord who had decided to hold a grudge against them. They both ended up at Clint’s apartment over in Brooklyn for dinner one night, choosing to stay in instead of brave a public bar, no matter how much a dive.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Matt said, reclining on the couch in the living room.

“For once,” Natasha said, sitting down next to him. “Here.” She handed him a bottle of beer. “It’s open.”

“Yes, thanks, haha,” Matt responded. “But seriously. I was thinking about my future as a lawyer.”

“You mean your future as the best lawyer in Manhattan?” Clint asked from over in the kitchen. “How do you like your eggs?”

“Boiled,” Matt said. 

“Over easy,” Foggy said. “We’re not that good yet. We’ve only had the one case. And we’re not even sure if we’re going to survive that one.”

“I told you, if he’s agreed to let go of the case, he’s not going to come after you,” Natasha said. “It doesn’t benefit him at this point. He’s got enough other things to worry about without trying to worry about a couple of rubes from Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Uh, thanks?” Foggy said. “Wait, eggs? Why are you asking about eggs?”

“Breakfast for dinner. Eggs, hash browns, bacon, and pancakes,” Clint responded.

“So anyway,” Matt said, holding back a sigh, “I was thinking about what sort of lawyers we’re going to be after this. Since apparently we sort of burned up our chance at being corporate lawyers. Not that I’m complaining. I don’t think I was ever really cut out for that environment.”

“I’m surprised it took you this long to realize you hated the corporate environment,” Natasha said. “I thought, you know, the running around punching muggers would’ve been a tip-off a lot sooner.”

“We needed a job,” Foggy said. “And the pay was phenomenal.”

“Yeah,” Matt agreed. “I thought if maybe I had the extra money I could, I don’t know, make more of a difference.” He sighed and leaned back in the couch, taking a long pull from the beer bottle. “But I became a lawyer because I believed in things. And I want to get back to that.”

“What sort of things? Like, miracles and God and stuff?” Clint asked.

Matt shook his head. “More like…I don’t know. Truth. Justice.”

“Reasonably priced love?” Natasha offered.

Matt turned to frown at her, but from the kitchen Clint decided to take up the joke. “And a hard-boiled egg!” he shouted. “Catch!” Matt, growing used to this game, turned his hand palm up at waist height and waited for the inevitable egg to land solidly in his palm.

“I prefer soft-boiled,” he muttered.

“Sorry, what was that?” Clint asked, tapping at his hearing aid.

“Nothing. Thanks for cooking.”

“No problem. Foggy, Natasha, come grab your food.”

“Plate it for me,” Natasha said as Foggy got up.

“Hell no. I am just your chef, not your waiter.”

“Chefs plate the food.”

“Whatever. I don’t know how much you want. Come here and get your food before Foggy takes it all.”

A knock on the door interrupted their argument.

“That’s probably Katie,” Clint said.

“Who?” Foggy asked.

“From the archery competition?” Clint said. “Remember, the kid who beat me? I actually got in touch with her again and invited her over for a rematch.” He wandered over to the door. “Though I didn’t expect her to show up in the middle of dinnertime.” He opened the door.

Silence fell across the apartment as everyone waited for a response to the person standing at the door. Matt waited for a count of fifteen and was about to speak up when he heard Clint, incredulous, ask, “Bucky?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for keeping up with this story! This chapter almost didn't get written, so apologies if it's a little rough--it didn't really have a chance to be edited. Let me know if you spot any mistakes here or anywhere else in the work, and stay tuned for the third and final part of this series.


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